


the faster we're falling

by raewrites



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, M/M, kuroo being the most in love loser it's actually ridiculous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-08 23:08:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1959630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raewrites/pseuds/raewrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sawamura Daichi is really hot.</p><p>But also so much more.</p><p>And it’s a huge fucking problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the faster we're falling

**Author's Note:**

> the final leap over the hurdle that has been my writer's block. please excuse the ridiculous amount of banter. it's actually my favorite thing. 
> 
> as a side note: i promise i really like pacific rim.

"You’re a pretty chill guy, man.” Bokuto says, hanging backwards off the edge of Kuroo’s futon, words slurred as the result of intoxication and general sleep deprivation. Kuroo contemplates pulling on the hem of Bokuto’s shirt to reel him back into a proper sitting position as the other begins to slowly slide backwards towards the hard floor of his dorm, but only until he realizes it’ll be more amusing not to.   
  
“Of course I am.” Kuroo replies, taking another swig from his beer can, previously smug lips curling into an annoyed frown as he tries to remember when he had opened it, and why it’s already empty.  
  
“But like. You’re also kind of a loser.”  
  
“Wow.”  
  
“Nah, in the good way. Like-" There’s a distinct thud as Bokuto inevitably flops onto the floor and Kuroo would probably have broken into hysterical laughter had he not been so preoccupied with his sudden lack of alcohol, “Like _I_ know you’re a loser on the inside. But most people probably look at you like ‘wow that guy’s really fucking chill’ and they don’t even _know_.”  
  
“What are you saying?”  
  
“You. With Sawamura earlier.”  
  
“Can we not.”  
  
“You were so _embarrassing_ , man.”  
  
“I know, we’re drinking for a goddamn reason.”  
  
“I’ve never seen your face so red.”  
  
“Bo.”  
  
“Hey hey hey what’s the difference between you and a six year-old with their first crush?”  
  
“Dude c’mon.”  
  
"Literally nothing.”  
  
“Fuck you.” Kuroo growls, standing unsteadily to his feet, crossing the room to retrieve another beer, cracking it open and taking a long swig as Bokuto eventually rights himself into a sitting position on the floor.  
  
“I’m just saying, it’s weird for you, man.” Bokuto drawls, making an attempt to stand, “You’re really into him, huh?”  
  
“...Yeah, I really am."  
  
Kuroo generally considers himself a level-headed individual, his overall composure varying little on a metaphorical spectrum, a steady flow of highs and lows, settling into an even frequency of expression. He’s typically not one to wear his heart on his sleeve, preferring to tuck it away discretely within his pockets, hidden from view.  
  
Kuroo would need more than his two hands to count the number of people he’s ensnared with his easy grin, inviting tilt of his head, confident fingers prying at belt loops and under the hem of skirts, shadowed corners becoming a web of sorts, a mess of tangled limbs and purpose; too hot, too desperate, too fast, not fast enough.   
  
It’s fun, every once in a while. These interactions, noncommittal, satisfying on the most primitive of levels. Strings cut before they can be firmly attached, names forgotten before they’re recalled, absent and replaced by gasped profanities in moments of temporary intimacy.   
  
It’s easy, effortless even, to brush these encounters off his shoulder, out of his concern after they’ve occurred. Without lingering emotions lying heavy in his chest, without the image of the other person pestering his conscious, without a need for further contact, further satisfaction beyond his orgasm.   
  
But things stopped being easy the moment he met Sawamura Daichi.   
  
The moment he had caught Sawamura's glance after hearing the group project pairs announced by their professor. The moment after Sawamura offered a humble smile, nodding in his direction. The moment Kuroo felt his breath leave him, felt a slight tug somewhere near his heart.  
  
It’s _not_ easy, forcing himself to focus through entire group sessions without catching himself staring at the strong line of Sawamura’s jaw, the way his shirts stretch a little too tight across his biceps, Kuroo’s own fingers itching to reach out, unaccustomed to such a situation where he wants to touch but _can’t._ It’s not easy, this pull at his heart every time he imagines Sawamura's perpetually exasperated yet amused smiles, every time he imagines Sawamura putting his pen between his teeth, a habit that leaves Kuroo more than a little unsatisfied upon waving goodbye.   
  
It’s not easy, feeling tangled up in strings he doesn’t remember tying.   
  
Sawamura Daichi is really hot.  
  
But also _so much more._  
  
 _And it’s a huge fucking problem._  
  
“Then ask him out or something.” Kuroo turns, watching as Bokuto finally manages himself back onto the futon, expression much more comprehensive than his intoxication level should allow, “I asked Akaashi out and now look at us."   
  
“Your first date was a fucking disaster.”   
  
“I said look at us _now._ The past is in the past, Kuroo."  
  
“Along with your ability to enter the bar down the street ever again, right?"  
  
“You're avoiding the whole thing.” Bokuto huffs, waving his hands in the air in an irritable fashion, “Ask him to coffee?"  
  
“That’s so vanilla though?”  
  
“Yeah you should try it for once."  
  
“Fine.”  
  
Bokuto blinks, pushing himself from a previously sprawled position to one that reflects some degree of bodily control, “Fine?”  
  
“Yeah.” Kuroo says, pulling his cell phone from his jean pockets, fumbling with the passcode, “I’ll text him. Right now.”  
  
It takes him a few tries to pull up the right contact, past messages of old meeting arrangements greeting him on the too bright screen. He takes a moment to consider the wording, consider how to ask Sawamura on a date without implying that it’s a date being asked about. Or whether he _should_ imply it's a date after all, though the very idea makes his stomach flip.  
  
After staring at his phone for a solid minute, Kuroo finally hits send, re-reading his message.  
  
          _hey, cofee sometime?_  
  
“Shit.”  
  
“What?"  
  
“I spelled coffee wrong.”  
  
          * _coffe_  
  
“God- My thumb keeps..fucking slipping-”  
  
“Hey, are you okay?"  
  
          * _COFFEE_  
  
“…Do you think it's okay if it’s in all caps?”  
  
“Kuroo, holy shi-"  
  
But Bokuto’s interrupted by the small ‘ping’ from Kuroo's phone, a phone Kuroo nearly drops in anticipation as he opens the message, reading it so quickly he feels his head rush.  
  
          _haha you’re good_  
 _like for the group project?_  
  
“Shit he’s asking if it’s for the group project.”  
  
“How oblivious is he? You’re not really discrete? At all?”  
  
 _“Bo.”_  
  
“I don’t know, man. Your life, your choices.” Pausing as if considering, Bokuto stands, finishing with a blunt, “I need to pee.”  
  
Kuroo bites his lip, thumbs hovering over the keyboard as Bokuto wobbles past him out of the room and down the hall. Leaning against his desk, Kuroo starts typing a reply, reconsiders, then quickly erases everything, heaving a sigh and running a hand down his face.   
  
 _“Goddammit.”_    
  
It’s another minute of consideration, of debating whether or not to toss his phone out the window as some sort of “freak accident” before Kuroo inhales, holding his breath as he types out the two words, hitting send before he has the chance to reconsider all of the life choices he’s made up to this point.  
  
          _not necessarily_  
  
Looking at them again, Kuroo briefly thinks about tossing himself out the window along with his phone, until it vibrates again in his hand.  
  
          _ok sure_  
 _when are you thinking?_  
  
Kuroo’s never had an out-of-body experience but he’s pretty sure the numbness he feels from the tips of his toes to the ends of his fingers could qualify as something similar, his thumbs moving seemingly beyond his own control as he texts a reply.  
  
          _tomorrow? 2?_  
 _that one coffee shop across the street from the biology building?_  
 _can’t remember the name.._  
  
When Sawamura’s final message pops up on the screen, Kuroo’s sure he’s died and gone to a better place because this can’t possibly be occurring in his actual life.  
  
          _i know which one you’re talking about!_  
 _it’s a date_  
  
When Bokuto returns to the room, Kuroo is curled up on the futon, back facing him, head sandwiched between two pillows.  
  
“Shit, it didn’t go well th-?” But before he can finish his sentence, Kuroo is holding his phone out to him, the conversation displayed on the screen for him to read. There’s a grin plastered across Bokuto’s face before he even finishes, grabbing hold of Kuroo’s shoulder and shaking it in his excitement.  
  
“Hey hey hey, he said ‘date’ and everything!’  
  
Bokuto has to lean forward to hear Kuroo’s reply, muffled between the layers of pillow.  
  
“I know.”  
  
“How do you feel?”  
  
“Like I’m going to die.”  
  
“You’re golden, man.”  
  
“Make sure they put that on my fucking grave stone. ‘Here lies Kuroo Tetsurou. He was golden.’”  
  
“What else are friends for?"  
  
***  
  
Kuroo realizes he’s fucked up upon looking at the menu board of the cafe, each item more bizarre than the last, and he eventually comes to the steady conclusion that simply asking for a ‘coffee’ won’t get him very far. He’s still in the midst of considering which would be the safest bet when the the barista’s polite, “And for you?” pulls him back to reality.  
  
“Um.” It’s when he notices Sawamura looking expectantly at him, leaning his hip casually against the counter that Kuroo feels his brain short-circuit for a moment, all previous considerations vanishing in place of a clumsy, “What he’s having.”   
  
He hands a few bills over the counter, purposefully ignoring the barista’s knowing look at he follows Sawamura to an empty, two-person table towards the back of the cafe.  
  
“So you like your coffee black too?”  
  
“What?”  
  
Sawamura’s lips pull into an amused smile and Kuroo nearly stubs his toe on the leg of the table in his attempt to sit.  
  
“That’s what I ordered at least.” Sawamura continues, taking a seat across from Kuroo, arms crossed on the table’s surface, one of the sleeves of his jacket pushed up a little higher than the other and Kuroo briefly wonders when he began noticing such menial things.   
  
“Oh. Yeah, black usually.” He mumbles, hoping the other can’t detect the lying inclination in his tone, though the slight quirk of his eyebrows seems to indicate otherwise. Either way, Kuroo appreciates the change in subject when Sawamura speaks again.  
  
“You’re a second year too right? I realize I never asked.”  
  
Kuroo nods, hooking one of his legs over the other under the table, “Mhm. One year down, still don’t know what I’m doing to be honest.”  
  
Sawamura cracks another smile, “Undecided then?”  
  
“Technically.” Kuroo replies before taking a long breath, "Though I like to think of it as a game of twister. Right hand on Philosophy. Left foot on Religious Studies. Right foot on Anthropology. Left hand on Psychology. And then someone flips the spinner and suddenly it’s left foot on Biochemical Engineering.” He pauses, rubbing his nose, “Huge mistake by the way, I lasted one lecture.”  
  
“Holy shit.” Sawamura says, leaning back in his seat, a laugh escaping his lips, “Which do you like best?”  
  
“Philosophy?”   
  
“You don’t sound too sure of that answer.”  
  
“I’ve taken three foundations classes towards a Philosophy major. I don’t think I remember how to be sure of _anything_ anymore.” Kuroo finds his own lips curling into a grin as Sawamura laughs, breathy, the corners of his eyes crinkling, shoulders shaking slightly with the motion.   
  
He only notices he’s been staring when Sawamura suddenly brings his coffee cup to his lips. Blinking in dazed confusion, Kuroo casts his eyes down to see his own cup placed on the table, the dark substance reflecting his own image incriminatingly back at him.  
  
Somewhat startled by his involuntary loss of focus, Kuroo quickly asks, “What about you? Something practical probably.”  
  
“What makes you say that?” Sawamura asks, peering over the lip of his cup, expression incredulous.   
  
Kuroo grins, lifting his own cup, shrugging noncommittally, “You’ve got a practical vibe about you. A ‘plan on graduating in four years with an internship lined up then proceeding to work steadily at the same job for the next forty years’ vibe.”  
  
Sawamura huffs into his coffee, looking away as if caught in a compromising act, “I’m a Business major.” Kuroo’s glad Sawamura interprets his cringe and retching sound as disapproval rather than an involuntary reaction upon taking his first sip of coffee, the other frowning slightly, setting his cup on the table, “It’s not _that_ bad.”  
  
Bringing his cup away from his face, Kuroo recovers enough to manage a teasing smirk, “Yeah, if you don’t mind living an actual hell taking two semesters of Calculus you’ll never need."  
  
For a moment Sawamura looks like he’s about to retort, biting the inside of his cheek, until his shoulders inevitably droop, defeated, “Okay, Calculus is shit but-“  
  
“But at least there’s Managerial Accounting to look forward to, right?”  
  
“Well-“  
  
“Oh, which makes you want to die a slower death? Macro or Micro Economics?”  
  
“Um.”  
  
“I could never decide myself, honestly.”  
  
Kuroo watches as Sawamura’s lips eventually curl into a teasing smirk of his own, “Sounds like you’ve landed right hand on Business at some point yourself, huh?”  
  
“Lasted a week.”  
  
“Impressive.”  
  
“Thank you."  
  
As they dissolve into more laughter, Kuroo finds himself steadily relaxing, previously tense posture settling into an easy lean, elbow propped on the edge of the table, chin resting in the palm of his hand as he listens to Sawamura surrender his Business major pride, falling into a series of rants Kuroo can’t help but smirk at.   
  
As the sun begins to set in the sky, the flurry of butterflies previously occupying Kuroo's stomach settle into only the occasional flutter in the brief moments their eyes meet, matching smiles in mutual pauses of breath, until they eventually fall completely still with the passing of time, his coffee cold as ice by the time Sawamura glances down at his watch.  
  
“Is it really 5:30 already?”  
  
“Hm?” Kuroo hums, leaning forward slightly to read the clock hanging on the opposite wall, “I guess so.”   
  
Groaning, Sawamura slumps forward in his seat, running a hand through his hair, “Okay, I don’t think I can afford not to study for this Finance midterm any longer.”  
  
“Didn’t pin you as a procrastinator, Sawamura.” Kuroo teases, tapping his fingers on the lip of his coffee cup, “Should I be worried about our group project?”  
  
The other rolls his eyes, replying with a stubborn, “I’m not procrastinating.” As Kuroo quirks an eyebrow, Sawamura exhales a long breath, crossing his arms over his chest, “I’ve just been mentally preparing. Fresh slate and all that.”  
  
“Careful,” Kurro chides, noting the way Sawamura’s head tilts with vague interest for his next words, “That sounds like the kind of bullshit I’m prone to pulling. Never a good sign.”  
  
“Well then I should probably get to it, huh?”   
  
“I wouldn’t.”  
  
“Only further confirmation then.”  
  
They share a knowing grin before eventually standing from their chairs, nodding to the barista over their shoulders as they walk outside into the orange glow of evening, their shadows elongated across the cracked pavement.   
  
It’s within this new silence, heavy with expectation, clouded with consideration over the right thing to say that Kuroo feels the incessant thud of his heart against his ribcage once again, feels short of breath, palms sweaty within the pockets of his jacket.   
  
“Uh-“  
  
“We should do this again sometime."  
  
Kuroo blinks, wondering for a brief moment if he heard correctly, heard the rush of those words from Sawamura’s mouth, wondering for a brief moment if the other’s ears had been this red the whole time.   
  
“Yeah. For sure.” He replies lamely, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck, gathering his next words, “Good luck. On your midterm.”  
  
“Thanks. I’ll need it.”  
  
“If all else fails, I hear Art History majors are looking for more people to cry with.”  
  
“I think I’ll leave that to you.”  
  
“It’s next on the list.”  
  
Kuroo wonders if a time will come when Sawamura’s laugh won’t catch him breathless, won’t tug like a string tied around his heart, won’t leave his fingers itching to brush his thumb against the hinge of his jaw, won’t leave him licking his lips, lips he wishes he could lean forward and press against Sawamura's, breathing in his laughter, feeling the curl of his smile familiar against his own.  
  
He wonders all of these things, strings knotted together within his chest as Sawamura waves, asking a casual, “Until next time?”  
  
 _And Kuroo feels himself falling just a little faster._  
  
“Yeah. Until next time.”  
  
***  
  
“I can’t tell if this movie is incredibly overrated or incredibly underrated.”  
  
“If you’re questioning the brilliance of giant robots fighting aliens arising from the depths of the Pacific Ocean I’m not quite sure what to say to you.”  
  
“So if I said I thought it was overrated?”  
  
“You could leave.”  
  
“Harsh.”  
  
Kuroo glances briefly from the TV screen to catch Sawamura’s smile from the corner of his eye, the other leaning against the arm of the futon, shirt riding slightly up his side, socked feet pressed gently into Kuroo’s side.  
  
It’s a familiar scene, weeks after they've turned in their final project, these movie nights in Kuroo’s dorm, curled up on the futon, settling into playful banter over the legitimacy of sci-fi thrillers, Kuroo adamantly avoiding the waggle of Bokuto’s eyebrows when he drops in on occasion, making a big deal of ‘leaving them alone’. At one point, upon getting up to use the bathroom down the hall, Kuroo had noticed a sock hanging from the door handle, one he had promptly pocketed with a flush to his cheeks, shoving it in Bokuto’s face once Sawamura left for the evening.   
  
It’s easy, these words quipped between them, followed by periods of comfortable silence, eyes trained on the TV screen, occasionally drifting to the other, Kuroo feeling his heart beat a little faster every time Sawamura nudges against him, an intimacy in the purest sense of the term, an intimacy that settles warm in Kuroo’s chest, content.   
  
“I’m gonna use the bathroom.” Sawamura says suddenly, standing and pacing around the back of the futon, “You don’t have to pause it for me.”  
  
Kuroo frowns, turning his head to watch as the other turns the door handle, walking into the hallway, “You sure? They’re about to blow up the portal thing and save the world.”  
  
Sawamura pokes his head back into the room for a moment, scoffing, “Well now that you’ve spoiled it, it really doesn’t matter does it?”  
  
“It’s a shitty sci-fi movie you knew they were gonna save the world.”  
  
“So you admit, it’s a little shitty.”  
  
“You’re hearing things, Sawamura.”  
  
As the other’s laugh fades down the hallway, Kuroo sighs, slumping a bit in his seat as he watches the final showdown unleash on the screen. It isn’t until Mako and Raleigh resurface, foreheads pressed against each other as a series of aircraft fly overhead that Kuroo hears the door swing open again.  
  
“Shit, you missed the whole thing. Hold on I’ll rewind because you have to see the alien’s face when they-“   
  
He doesn’t quite register Sawamura’s hands on the sides of his head, tilting him backwards, doesn’t quite register the gentle, almost hesitant press of Sawamura’s lips against his until it’s happening.   
  
All at once, Kuroo feels his knot of strings unravel within his chest, one pulling his hands up to cup against Sawamura’s, another tilting his head slightly, parting his lips, moving slowly, testing the waters, testing the strength of a previously fragile balance between too much and not enough.  
  
He’s always thought the idea of ‘seeing sparks’ was nothing more than an annoying cliche, a myth composed to undermine interactions that didn’t create such displays. But when he kisses Sawamura, when he feels the other’s breath intermingling with his own, stop-start, when he curls his fingers in between Sawamura’s against the line of his jaw, Kuroo feels like he’s igniting; feels like a spark that’s traveled down a mile-long fuse, finally reaching its destination, exploding into a series of bright flashes behind his eyelids.   
  
They eventually pull apart, foreheads pressed together, and Kuroo has to laugh when he realizes they’re mirroring the image on the screen, wondering for a brief moment if Mako and Raleigh feel the same as they do, feel as warm, feel as content, feel as if they’re falling, knots unraveling to reveal a single string tied between them, pulling them together.   
  
“You didn’t have to use the bathroom, did you?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Just had to psych yourself up?”  
  
“Maybe."  
  
“Well, you beat me to it.”  
  
“Clearly.”  
  
Kuroo grins as Sawamura walks back around the side of the futon, holding his gaze with something like a promise.   
  
“Want me to rewind?”  
  
“Not really.”  
  
 _Kuroo’s been falling since the moment he met Sawamura Daichi, faster with each passing day within the other’s presence._  
  
“I’m guessing you have something else in mind then?”  
  
“Absolutely.”  
  
 _But only now does he realize he was never falling alone._  


End file.
